


The Three Times Loki Kissed Thor (and The One Time Thor Kissed Loki)

by tegary



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, Loki is clueless, M/M, Pre-Thor (2011), Sibling Incest, immoral use of magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-27
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2019-03-24 15:57:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13814532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tegary/pseuds/tegary
Summary: Loki uses his newly-learned memory spell in some...less than moral ways.





	The Three Times Loki Kissed Thor (and The One Time Thor Kissed Loki)

**ONE**

“Now Loki,” Frigga says, tipping her head up to look her second-born in the eyes. “Memory spells are powerful, and they can be _harmful._ They are an invasion of a being’s right to sanctity of mind, and, as such, are only to be used in the direst of situations.”

“Mother,” Loki replies sweetly, taking one of her delicate hands in his. “I hope to never be in such a situation. I only wish to learn all there is to know about being a Seiðrmadr, so perhaps someday, I can be as skilled as you.” And it is not a lie, for the most part. Loki truly does wish to learn every spell that the nine realms have to offer, and his mother is widely accredited with being one of the most powerful spell-casters in the known universe. But, unlike Loki, Frigga is more interested in magic of healing, magic of life. Loki had learned all of this centuries ago, when he was but a boy, wide-eyed and innocent. He could heal almost any wound, counteract almost any illness. But now he wants _more._ What good is an unbalanced sorcerer who can only _heal,_ and knows not how to _hurt?_ His fantasies of being as strong and able-bodied as his older brother have long since gone up in smoke, and Loki knows, now, that the only way he can match Thor in skill is to make himself more powerful with his magic.

Whether it be the flattery or the fact that Frigga can rarely deny her youngest, Loki knows not. But, after a moment, she sighs and gives a gentle smile, passing Loki the bound tome she had been holding to her breast.

“Be _careful,_ Loki,” She says, accepting the kiss that Loki presses to her cheek in thanks. “I would rather not have to explain the whole history of your life to you in the chance that you misfire and lose your _own_ memories.”

“I will, Mother,” Loki replies, before dipping his head to take his leave. “Thank you.”

He spends the next three days walled up in his quarters, pouring over every sigil and inscription contained within the book’s pages. Thor comes twice to ask Loki to venture into town with him, but Loki denies him each time, waving a noncommittal hand in the general vicinity of his older brother. By now, Thor is used to this, Loki’s regular cycle of disappearing for a while to work on casting. Loki would forget to eat if the servants did not bring food to his door thrice a day, though whether Frigga or Thor has requested their service, Loki knows not.

“Ah, my baby brother!” Thor announces when Loki reappears at midday meal one day, after having spelled two cooks to forget that they saw him sneaking several golden apples from their supply. “I see him so scarcely; I had almost forgotten what he looked like.”

“Very funny, Thor,” Loki gripes at him, flicking a raisin off of his plate and into Thor’s lap. The God of Thunder chuckles and tosses a bread roll at him, one that Loki snatches easily out of the air. He takes a bite.

“Boys, aren’t we a little old to be throwing food at each other?” Frigga asks as she takes her seat next to Loki, giving both of her sons a look of equal exasperation and fondness. Thor shakes his head and points at Loki accusatorially.

“He started it!”

“Oh no, don’t go blaming this on me. You were the one who just _had_ to make a smart comment.”

“Enough, enough,” Frigga says, waving her hands in what seems to be a halting gesture. Her two sons don’t notice the bunch of grapes that seems to be floating in the air of its own accord until it’s too late, and Loki and Thor duck as they’re bombarded with the tiny fruits.

“Mother, stop!” Thor howls with laughter, arms crossed over his face protectively. Loki tries to dodge one grape, but ends up getting hit in the forehead with another, sending sticky juice sliding down his face. The barrage ends after a moment, and Loki is covered in grape juice, wet on his cheeks and sticky in his hair. He harrumphs a put-upon sigh and gathers the juice with his fingers, suckling it off the tips to clean them.

When he looks up to catch Thor’s gaze, his brother is looking upon him with a strange expression that Loki can’t quite place. Loki gives him a sneer and twists his wrist, seiðr cleaning up the rest of the mess, and Thor gives a startled blink and looks away.

Frigga is needed in council for the rest of the day, and Loki hasn’t another spell to begin working on, so he ends up accompanying Thor to the training grounds. They’re oddly quiet for this time of day, and not another soul is to be seen in the dusty arena-like enclosure.

“What a shame, I suppose you’ll just have to be my sparring partner today,” Thor says, and Loki gives him an unimpressed look before he begins stripping out of his nicer soft armor, leaving only his tunic and a pair of leggings behind. He turns and folds his outer-clothes nicely as Thor removes his own armor, though he drops it on the ground with a dull _thud._ Loki grimaces.

“You’ll just have to show me the spell you’ve been working on,” Thor calls as he takes his stance at the other end of the field, wiping his palms on his breeches. Loki takes up his own stance at his end, considering the merits of using his memory spell in battle before he shakes his head.

“It’s not a spell for combat, brother, but I have many other things to show you.” And Thor gets that odd look upon his face again. Loki’s about to comment before Thor bends in the ceremonial bow that will start the match. Once Loki returns it, they begin.

They are, of course, not evenly matched in strength. Loki does not even come close to the amount of brute force Thor can exert, but he is faster and smarter when it comes to battle. In all of his years of sparring with his older brother, Loki has learned that Thor is a fairly stubborn fighter (as he is in most other things). Once he chooses a path, he will not waver. It makes it fairly easy for Loki to side-step when Thor charges, and he does it three times before Loki gets caught around the shoulders and pulled back into Thor’s chest. He’s trapped in a head-lock.

“Do you yield?” Thor asks, and Loki has to hold back a strange shudder at the feel of Thor’s warm breath against his ear and cheek. He can’t let himself become distracted, though, and Loki begins to go limp as if in surrender.

As soon as Thor loosens his grip, though, Loki deftly ducks out of his grasp, catching Thor’s ankle with his foot and tripping the great oaf to the ground. Thor looks up at him, panting, mouth set in a scowl.

“That wasn’t fair,” He complains, and Loki simply gives him a smile.

“I didn’t yield,” He responds, before putting some space between them as Thor begins to rise again.

This time, when Thor charges him, Loki ducks low and head-butts him right in the stomach. It wasn’t exactly the best plan, as Thor had picked up enough velocity to send Loki’s head aching, but the Thunderer does grunt lowly and stumble backwards. It’s the perfect time for Loki to strike, and he conjures a whip of energy, ensnaring his brother’s feet and sending him to the ground once again. This time, Loki follows, settling heavy on Thor’s chest and pinning his wrists.

“Do you yield?” He asks playfully, and Thor gawps at him in surprise.

“Impressive, little brother,” He praises, and Loki’s cheeks glow warm. Other than Frigga, Thor’s opinion has always been the most important to him.

“I told you I had things to show you,” He gloats, tightening his hands around Thor’s wrists in order to gloat a little more. He doesn’t get the chance, though, as Thor’s eyes flick up to where Loki’s got him pinned, and then down to where Loki is straddling his chest. It’s then that Loki realizes the position they’re in: it really isn’t different from how they’ve been hundreds of times before, though sparring usually ends with Loki’s cheek in the dirt and Thor holding his arm behind his back. But something is different about this time. There’s electricity in the air, barely contained, and when Loki looks down at Thor again, all he can think about is _kissing_ him.

It should revolt him. This is his _big brother_ after all, the mighty idiot who had broken several of Loki’s favorite toys and shoved him out of a tree once in anger. They’ve grown together, bathed together, learned and fought together. Loki shouldn’t be having these feelings. And yet, _he does._ His mind is a whir of thoughts of Thor: what his lips might taste like, how his beard would feel against the soft skin of Loki’s cheeks, what noises he might make as Loki nipped at his mouth _just so._ The ideas are all so tantalizing that Loki doesn’t realize he’s acting them out until his lips are on Thor’s.

The haze abruptly lifts when Thor gives a little grunt, hands flexing where Loki has them pinned parallel to his ears. Every muscle in Loki’s body freezes, and he feels cold dread wash through him. What has he _done?_ He’s just gone and sullied their whole relationship, perverted something that was once familial and pure. There must be something horribly, basely wrong with him to think of Thor in this way, to even _consider_ it. There’s no way he’ll be able to apologize enough to ever fix this.

He’s still against Thor’s lips for a good few seconds before the idea comes to him: _his memory spell_. He can make Thor forget this ever happened. Loki has a split-second thought of Frigga’s warning to him, about sanctity of mind and invasion of privacy, but it’s swiftly waylaid by the relief Loki feels. He hasn’t messed this up so badly after all.

Loki sits up quickly, trying to gather his seiðr before he can see the stunned look on Thor’s face turn to one of disgust. Hands alight with aquamarine magic, he settles them at Thor’s temples.

“Loki—“ Thor chokes out, but the trickster has already opened his mouth.

“Forget,” He says, and watches Thor’s sky blue eyes flash electric for a moment, before he blinks up at Loki dazedly.

“What just happened?” He asks, and relief makes Loki’s muscles loosen.

“You yielded,” He responds succinctly, before standing. As he leaves, his legs are shaking.

Loki spends the rest of the day in his room with the curtains drawn, refusing company and ignoring the tray of dinner set outside his door. He’s disgusted with himself. What in the Norns could have possessed him to _think_ about Thor that way, much less _act_ on those thoughts? The worst part of it is, he isn’t even sorry. Loki scrubs his hands over his face before bringing his fingertips to his lower lip, thoughts restless. He wants to do it again.

 

**TWO**

He forces himself out of his rooms the next day, barely able to look Thor in the face when his brother greets him a hearty good-morning. The sight of those sky-blue eyes will take Loki’s mind places that it doesn’t need to be, and Loki keeps his gaze trained firmly on his plate as his family takes breakfast together.

“Thor and I are going out on a ceremonial hunt with the farmers today,” Odin mentions over his morning mug of mead, eyeing Loki from across the table. He’s being too obvious. Loki’s usually able to hide his emotions fairly well, but this has him all sorts of shaken up. “Would you like to join us, Loki?”

“I think not,” The trickster replies, dragging his spoon around in the bowl of fruit in front of him. “I told Arnhelga that I would assist her in breaking one of the new stallions today.”

Loki can feel Thor’s gaze on him, but he doesn’t look up, choosing instead to shovel a spoonful of blackberries into his mouth to avoid further conversation.

“So be it,” Odin replies, turning back to his conversation with Thor.

His day in the stables manages to take Loki’s mind off of things somewhat. Arnhelga lets Loki do most of the breaking, as Loki had broken his own stallion in record time some centuries ago. By the end of the day, he has the horse eating oats out of his palm, and Arnhelga lets out a low whistle of appreciation.

“I’ve not seen someone who is so good with stallions since old Alda died,” She says, taking the reins from Loki and leading the horse back into its paddock. He simply gives her a smile and a nod, warm with praise, before he turns to take his leave.

The palace is bustling when Loki returns, guards and servants alike racing to and fro down the hallways as if chased by some beast of Hel. Loki manages to stop one of the maids as she hurries by, arms full of towels.

“It’s your brother,” She says breathlessly. “He’s hurt.”

The infirmary room they’ve got Thor in is reserved for family and healers only, and the guards part for Loki as he ducks through the curtain-covered door. In the center of the room is Thor, lain out on a cot, bleeding heavily from several contusions and cuts across his face. Stunned, Loki can but stand at the doorway and look him over.

“One of the farmers brought his daughter with him,” And Loki starts as Odin’s voice comes from his left. “She wandered off during the hunt. Thor found her about to be snatched up by a Bilgesnipe. He threw himself in front of her.” The Allfather sighs, slowly rising from his seat. “Loki, your mother is in the countryside visiting her sister. She will not be back for a fortnight. I hate to have to ask this of you, but she taught you in the way of the healing arts…”

Loki holds up a hand. “Say no more,” He responds, toeing off his boots before slowly entering the room, kneeling down at Thor’s side. He swears he sees a smile pass across Odin’s face.

“Thank you, my son.” And Odin lays a hand on Loki’s shoulder, squeezing lightly before he takes his leave.

Thor is unresponsive, but breathing, and Loki wagers whatever second-rate healer has gotten here before him likely put Thor to sleep in an attempt to lessen his pain. Rolling up his sleeves, Loki takes a centering breath. He reaches out with the magic running through his veins to the tree of life, asks for its help and strength. In response, Loki’s palms begin to grow warm, and when he opens his eyes, they are alight with seiðr.

“You oaf,” Loki murmurs to his brother as he begins, slowly but meticulously working over Thor’s body until not a scratch is to be seen. As he finishes healing a particularly deep cut across Thor’s jaw, the man begins to wake.

“Loki?” And Thor’s voice is dry, cracked. Loki reaches over to the little bowl next to him and gathers some water, carefully holding it up to Thor’s lips so he may drink. The Thunderer’s head falls back against the pillows when he’s done, and he takes several deep breaths.

“I remember a bilgesnipe,” Thor says after a moment more, and Loki scoffs at him.

“Yes, and you’re lucky to be alive. Those things are _vicious,_ especially during spring when their babies are but young. Sometimes I wonder if you have a brain in here at all.” And Loki flicks at Thor’s skull, a little on the rough side, and his brother winces.

“You wound me, Loki. Here I am, hurt, defenseless, on the brink of death,” And Loki gives an indignant scoff, flicking him again.

“You’re fine, thanks to me. Now get up and give this room to someone who actually deserves it.” He can’t deny, though, the relief that is starting to seep through his veins at seeing Thor awake and well again.

Thor catches his wrist when Loki goes to stand, and the trickster blinks down at him.

“Thank you,” Thor says earnestly, and Loki’s breath catches in his throat. _Those eyes,_ they’re looking right at him, and suddenly every thought that Loki’s been trying to repress comes crashing back to him, filling his mind with _Thor_ and _want_ and _mouth_ and _soft._

Desperate not to give in a second time, Loki rears back, pulling against Thor’s grip. But this only serves to get Thor to tighten his hold, brow furrowing in concern.

“Loki? What is it?”

“It’s nothing, now let me go,” Loki says desperately, heart in his throat. Thor frowns and tugs Loki closer by his wrist, eyes searching his face.

“There’s something wrong,” He posits, and Loki gives a weak scoff.

“What was your first clue?”

“Tell me,” Thor implores, and Loki flicks his eyes from Thor to the exit, trying to find a way out of this.

“Loki,” Thor says, and the trickster groans.

What’s the worst that could happen?

This time the kiss he smooths against Thor’s lips is gentle, but purposeful, and Loki lets out a soft breath through his nose. His heart is fluttering in his ribcage, and Loki gets the strange feeling that he’s _floating._ Frigga had told him about it once, the first time she had kissed Odin. Of course, Loki, being about six at the time, had gagged and whined, not entirely keen on hearing about his parents kissing. But she had gone on, telling Loki that she had known right away that Odin was to be her true love, because the world felt _right_ when she kissed him.

The Norns must be playing some sort of cruel joke on Loki.

The kiss lasts only for a moment, just to the point where Thor shakes out of his shock and makes a soft noise against Loki’s lips. At this, the trickster sits back on his heels, short of breath.

“Loki—“

“Don’t scare me like that again,” Loki says, before putting his glowing hands to Thor’s temples.

“ _Forget.”_

 

**THREE**

Being a king means taking a queen. Since Odin had apparently been untraditional in the way that he took Frigga as his wife _after_ he took the crown, Loki’s father seems keen on setting Thor up with a bride well before his ascension to the throne.

Loki finds it horribly bothersome.

Most every week-end, groups of maidens come to the palace, parading around Thor and giggling at his horrible jokes. Loki usually ends up sitting on the other side of the room, face buried in one of his books, trying to block out the exited titters that seem to permeate the whole palace. There’s not one place on the palace grounds safe from the horde of giggling girls, save for the fields, and Loki finds himself outside more often than not on these days.

The tree he’s under is a mighty oak, one that was planted centuries ago when Loki was born. It keeps him cool and shady, as Loki is particularly averse to direct sunlight. He prefers the dark. He likes his pale skin, and he’d like to keep it that way.

He’s neatly tucked into one of his favorite books about Midgardian science when he hears the cursed giggles of one of Thor’s maidens, accompanied by the whinny of a horse. Groaning, Loki looks up to see his brother riding towards him on one of Odin’s buck mares, a pretty little dark-haired maid sitting on the saddle in front of him.

“Good afternoon, Loki!” His idiot brother crows, and Loki grimaces inwardly before setting his book down carefully on the grass.

“Good afternoon,” He says plainly, looking up to study Thor’s little plaything for the day. She’s slim and pretty, with wide, green eyes framed by dark lashes and wavy black hair caught into an intricate style. 

“Oh, how rude of me!” Thor says, before gesturing to the girl. “This is Magna.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Prince Loki,” The girl says, voice jarringly high and grating on Loki’s nerves. The trickster gives her an unimpressed once-over.

“Charmed,” He deadpans, and Magna blinks softly, seeming to shrink back against Thor. His brother, however, straightens in the saddle, catching Loki’s gaze with a disapproving glare.

“Magna, how about you head back to the palace? My mother is preparing a wonderful midday meal for us,” He says, and Loki holds his gaze stubbornly. “I will be with you shortly. I must…converse with my brother.”

The maid gives a small nod before leaning forward to plant a kiss against Thor’s cheek. Anger flares low in Loki’s gut for some reason, and he looks down at his abdomen like it might solve all his problems as Thor dismounts the horse. Taking the reigns in her own hands, Magna kicks a little at the mare’s side and goes riding off.

“You were rude,” Thor states, and Loki rolls his eyes.

“Oh no, how horrible. When has anyone ever known me to be _rude?”_

“I’m not in the mood for games, Loki,” Thor says sternly, taking Loki by the forearm and jerking him up to stand. The trickster gives an indignant scoff and moves away from Thor, pressing back against the tree behind him.

“Every time I introduce you to a maiden I fancy, you react the same way. Eventually, one of them will be your sister-in-law. You’ll have to at least pretend to be decent around them.”

“Eventually,” Loki points out, that same odd almost-anger feeling bubbling low in his gut. “Which means not now. I’ll pretend to like whatever little wraith you end up picking once you actually marry her. I’ll also be kind enough not to point out to her that you’ve married her over a sense of duty, not because you actually have any interest in her.”

“Watch your mouth, Loki,” Thor warns, taking a step closer. Loki’s back is flush with the tree trunk behind him. “What would you know about my feelings?”

“I know even you are not idiotic enough to think you love someone after knowing them for a day,” Loki says, chin tilted up haughtily. “I also know that you could never fall for a tittering little wilting flower such as father parades in front of you.”

“Oh?” Thor asks, and takes another step forward. He’s in Loki’s personal space, now. “Since you seem to know so much about what I like and what I do not, perhaps you could fill me in?”

Loki senses the challenge. “Gladly,” He says. “You like partners that can match you on the battlefield. You like the ones that aren’t easy to catch, that can match you in wits as well as strength. You want someone that can keep you in line.”

“You do seem to know me quite well,” Thor hums, a malevolent kind of amusement to his voice. His next step brings his leg in-between Loki’s, and the trickster’s body freezes. He’s staring up into Thor’s blue eyes, trapped again. What is _wrong_ with him? His brother is obviously cross with him, and all Loki can think about is letting Thor crush him against this tree and steal the air from his lungs. Obviously, that’s just a fantasy, though, as Loki is always the one who initiates. Good, kind Thor wouldn’t have thoughts like this. Not like Loki, who has woken up twice this week, sheets damp with sweat amongst other things, grasping at the fading image that his older brother has left in his dreams.

He’s lifting his arms to circle around Thor’s shoulders before he even registers it, rising up on his toes to slot his lips against Thor’s in a firm kiss. Perhaps this is all he’ll ever get, stealing kisses only to wipe Thor’s memory before he can even respond. What a life Loki leads. He wonders which one of his malicious tricks has put him out of favor with the Norns.

He’s so lost in his own thoughts and the feeling of Thor’s chapped lips against his own that Loki doesn’t think to pull away before Thor can get his wits about him. He’s shocked out of his reverie when Thor pushes him back against the tree, knocking what little breath Loki had out of his lungs. Instead of pushing him away like Loki expects, though, Thor seems to be _pinning him_ , keeping him in place between the trunk and his body as Thor’s mouth begins to _move._ Every other time this has happened, Loki has ended the kiss before Thor could respond, wiping his memory before the fact that his younger brother had just kissed him could register in Thor’s mind.

Eyes flying open, Loki nearly goes cross-eyed trying to understand what’s going on. Thor’s got his eyes closed, and his large palms are slipping from Loki’s shoulders to his hips, cupping them in such a way as he would do with a maiden. Thor is kissing him back. Thor is _kissing him back._ The realization has Loki making a pitiful little noise against Thor’s mouth, one that Thor responds to with a low growl. And if Loki doesn’t feel like he might pass out right then and there.

Losing himself a bit to the madness coursing through his veins, Loki lets his eyes slip closed as he moves his mouth with Thor’s. His older brother is a skilled kisser, if nothing else, and Loki feels a little jealousy well up in his throat at the thought of how Thor gained this skill. His lips slide effortlessly against Loki’s, and he changes the pace with little licks and nips that have Loki pressing up for more. A particularly rough tug to his bottom lip from Thor’s teeth makes Loki moan softly, and Thor pulls away after a moment more.

They stand there, foreheads together, sharing each others’ panting breaths for some time before Loki seems to come suddenly back to himself. _What is he doing?_ They’re out in the open, anyone could see them, and, oh _Norns,_ he’s dragged Thor into whatever pit of degenerate feelings Loki’s been wallowing in for weeks. Panicked, Loki slips out of Thor’s grasp, mind so addled with terror and guilt that he forgets entirely about wiping Thor’s memory.

“Loki—“ Thor calls, but by the time he turns, Loki has teleported away.

 

**PLUS ONE**

Loki steadfastly avoids Thor for the next two days. If he is so unlucky as to run into him (after all, the family oft takes meals together), Loki will avoid his eyes and nip any attempt at conversation in the bud. It’s all as well, because Loki is sure that as soon as Thor gets over his initial shock at what happened, he’s likely to come barging into Loki’s chambers ranting about how disgusting it was for Loki to drag him into such a sin. He might not ever speak to Loki again. Loki prays to the Norns that Thor, at least, won’t tell their parents about what transpired. He’s not sure he could face Odin and Frigga if they were to know.

On the third night, Loki receives the knock at his door that he was waiting for. Rising from where he’s been meditating and attempting to clear his mind, (it’s been woefully unhelpful), Loki straightens his robes out before he opens the door.

Standing outside is his brother, wearing his black riding cloak, which means he likely snuck past the guards in order to get to Loki’s wing of the palace. They’ve had separate wings since they were boys. At ten, Frigga had announced to them that it was time Thor and Loki stopped sharing a room, stopped sharing a bed, as they would appreciate more privacy as they grew older. Thor had steadfastly refused, holding little Loki tight to his chest. Who would be there to comfort Loki after his bad dreams? Thor had asked. Loki would just have to learn to comfort himself, Frigga had replied.

Where that familial, brotherly love had gone, Loki knows not. He simply beckons Thor into the room with a silent wave of his hand, moving to one of the broad windows along his wall. The sky is dark; it must be past the witching hour by now. Only a few tiny stars provide light onto the palace grounds below.

“Loki,” Thor starts, and the trickster shakes his head, hands tightening along the windowsill.

“I know what you’re going to say,” He says, teeth catching and grinding at the back of his mouth. “Look, Thor, I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, and I shouldn’t have dragged you into it. You can hate me, or never talk to me again, but _please_ do not tell mother and father.”

“Tell mother and—Loki,” Thor says, and he almost sounds amused. Loki’s nails scratch on the mortar as his hands curl into fists.

“I don’t appreciate you making a joke out of me,” He grits out, and tenses when one of Thor’s hand lands on his shoulder.

“I meant not to jest,” and Thor’s voice is soft, gentle. It gives Loki pause, and Thor uses this moment to slowly turn Loki to face him. His face is open, free of judgment, and Loki blinks in quieted curiosity.

“Loki, I—“ And Thor seems to be struggling with how to phrase what he wants to say, both hands coming up to smooth down Loki’s shoulders and along his upper arms. The trickster shivers a little bit, hanging on every breath Thor takes, uncertain if he’s going to be scolded or yelled at or…something different altogether.

Seemingly frustrated, Thor runs one of his hands through his hair, huffing out a soft breath. After a moment, he returns his attention to Loki, looking him over before he seems to make up his mind about something.

Thor’s lips are careful against Loki’s when he leans in to slot them together. The trickster holds his breath, blinking softly, as Thor threads a hand through Loki’s dark hair and slowly presses him back against the window. Pinning him again, as he had those couple days ago.

Loki’s mind takes a couple minutes to catch up to his body, and by the time he understands that Thor has kissed _him,_ willfully, Loki’s arms are already wound around Thor’s neck. Eyes falling closed, Loki allows himself to kiss back, chasing Thor’s mouth in a push-and-pull that leaves both of them panting for air when they separate only to come together again. A gentle nip to Loki’s lower lip has him moaning, and Thor uses the opportunity to slide his tongue inside, probing his teeth and tickling the sensitive roof of Loki’s mouth.

Letting his fingers wander into the long strands of Thor’s hair, Loki yelps a bit when Thor grabs him by the waist, hefting him up so that Loki has to wrap his legs around Thor’s hips to stay upright. He tugs at Thor’s hair in response, and the Thunderer shudders and nips again at Loki’s lips. _Ah._ Thor likes that, apparently.

They have to break for air once more, and this time Thor rests their foreheads together instead of chasing Loki’s lips again. They’re silent for a while, just breathing each other’s air, until Loki speaks up.

“You, too?”

Thor chuckles breathlessly. “Me, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come visit me and drop me a prompt!
> 
> tegary.tumblr.com


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